The White Hunter
by Magicallioness
Summary: Summary: Harry is a White Hunter, an Auror specialized in dealing with The Dark Arts. Draco Malfoy has fled the Wizarding World for a career as a super model in the Muggle World. When he's attacked Harry is put on the case, much to the chagrin of the bot
1. Christmas Party

Moments from The White Hunter

_Disclaimer: _

_Anything belonging to the HP universe belongs to J.K. Rowling and others who have bought the rights to meddle with her toys. Anything that's not is mine, unless stated otherwise. I'm just playing around here, not making money, so please don't sue. _

_Author's note's:_

_This fic was inspired by The Goodness of Their Hearts by Taratext (can be found on Fictionalley), but is very different all the same. The detective theme is still there, but different._

_Story isn't finished of beta'd, but I really like where it's going so it probably will be finished. Lots of original characters in this one. Bit of a Harry Potter/CSI mix. Please let me know what you think._

Summary:

Harry is a White Hunter, an Auror specialized in dealing with The Dark Arts. Draco Malfoy has fled the Wizarding World for a career as a super model in the Muggle World. When he's attacked Harry is put on the case, much to the chagrin of the both of them.

Chapter Summary:

Draco visits a Christmas party at work and gets some surprises both pleasant an unpleasant.

Christmas Party

I smile as I turn on the stereo and dance my way over to the spacious walk-in closet that makes up almost a third of my bedroom. Living in the Muggle world certainly has its benefits. Hhm, let's see, Corporation Christmas party… I know the invitation says dress code is supposed to be black tie, but that means almost everybody will be wearing black to go with the tie, well the guys at least, so I won't be caught dead in it.

I trail a finger over the back of my neatly folded shirts. White? Nah, choosing the opposite is boring and childish. I'm not a rebellious teenager anymore. Not that I'm not rebellious, but…

I turn slightly, eyeing the clothes all arranged by colour in my closet. I wiggle my toes because the high white carpet tickles under my bare feet. Blue? Goes nicely with my eyes, but a bit icy for a Christmasparty really.

I sigh, a bit irritated. A towel around the waist isn't much to keep me warm. It's freezing outside, for Merlin's sake. Red? Contrasts nicely with my hair, good Christmas colour, stands out ánd goes with the overruling black. Perfect!

I pull out a very fashionable, deep red suit and find matching silk boxers. Ha, always pays off to buy a pair of boxers to go with every item of clothing! I put on the boxers and trousers and walk over to the floor-to-ceiling mirror in the back of the closet to check myself out. I nod at myself, pleased at the contrast the deep red trousers make with my pale complexion. Thank Merlin pale is in again, those self-tanners and browning studios were killing my skin.

Now, a shirt and tie. I smile and quickly chose a black silk shirt. I can at least give the black tie request some attention. A tie, the same colour as my suit, black socks and impeccably polished black dancing shoes finish things of. I dance to the mirror again and admire the way the warm, heavy fabric of the suit moves with me as I exercise some dancing moves.

I pinch a small, golden ring in my ear and then stand in front of the mirror, debating whether I should wear my hair in a tail or loose. It has grown well over my shoulders now and although I'd like to cut it - it makes me look too much like my father - my contract says I'm forbidden to do so. I've followed instructions so far.

I decide to tie my hair in a low ponytail. It fits better with the suit and I can always untie it if I want to. I choose a golden clasp shaped like a dragon to cover the red elastic band holding my hair together. The dragon is pictured in flight and the one eye that shows is laid in with a perfect, deep red, ruby. Exactly the same colour as my suit.

Now then, some cologne, my long black coat and I'm all set to go. I fix myself a Martini while I wait for the cab to arrive. Drinks are on the house tonight, I'm not going to drive.

The entire entryhall of the Corporation building is decorated with ribbons in red and gold. I feel my jaw set at that colour combination and I have to make a conscious effort to relax. I shake my head lightly at my own childishness as I ascend the white marble stairs to the first floor, where the party is held. I'm not at Hogwarts anymore, for crying out loud! I don't even make it past the large mahogany doors and get stuck in the wardrobe.

"Draco, darling, how good of you to come! This really wouldn't be a party without you," Sherryl drawls as she slides over to me, while I'm hanging my coat. I'm forcibly reminded of the drawl that I used to build into my words while I was at Hogwarts. I thought it made me sound sophisticated and important at the time, but I've realised it's just plain irritating and snobbish. Obviously, Sherryl hasn't realised.

"Good evening Miss Goodmann. I wouldn't want to miss any of your parties for the world," I suck up to her, as she laces her arm through mine and leads me into the main hall. I swallow in an effort to get my stomach to calm down. The way we lick each others boots one minute and kill our best friends careers the next sickens even me.

"Oh, please call me Sherryl, darling. I'm not your boss right now, we're at a party, remember," she coos. I can't help but follow the movement of her hair as she pulls a hand through the soft red curls seductively. She's a bitch yes, a stuck-up, spoiled, conceited ponce, but she's also very beautiful and she knows how to use it. She wasn't the UK's topmodel for nothing and it's no secret how she got this model agency to be the biggest in the country.

"Alright, can I get you a drink, Sherryl?" I emphasis her name on purpose and it works. She giggles and orders me to get her a glass of champagne with twinkling eyes. Good, if I can just get rid of her while she's still smiling, she probably won't think of it as a rejection, just as bad luck that she lost me in the crowd.

I spot Nadine at another table, while I get Sherryl's champagne from the bar. She's chatting with a dark haired beauty, taking sips of red wine every now and then. Finally, she looks my way so I can incline with my head. Thank Merlin she walks over in that gracious way that's hers almost right away. I fix myself a Martini as I wait for the blond catwalk model to stand next to me at the bar.

"Draco, how are you?" she asks. Her voice is like her, gracious, like soft music caressing your ears. I smile at her, a real smile, my smile, not the one I save for the cameras or the one I use to get a date.

"In need of help actually," I talk softly to prevent anyone from hearing us. She raises her eyebrows inquisitively and I suddenly notice her eyes are bright green. I could've sworn they were blue when I saw her last month. I nod in the direction of Sherryl who's momentarily busy talking to Adam, one of our photographers. Nadine rolls her eyes.

"She still hasn't given up on you?" she asks disbelievingly. I shake my head with a smile as a comment about how irresistible I am pops into my head. It's been over a year since Sherryl first tried to get me into her bed. She hasn't succeeded jet, but, like Nadine stated, she still hasn't given up on me. Which, of course, calls for a sharp remark about my attractiveness. I can't stay and chat here forever though, so I beg Nadine to come and rescue me instead. She winks at me before she returns to her table and I feel a bit better as I hand Sherryl her champagne.

"Thank you darling, you're the greatest. So, Draco, how have you been?" the red-head who calls herself my boss asks. The thing is, she really is my boss, she owns this corporation, so I'd better make sure I stay friends with her.

"Pretty well actually. Just had the cover shoot for WAM yesterday. How's live on your side?" I try to make polite conversation and realise a little too late that the cover of Women And Men involves me without a shirt and thus gives Sherryl plenty of room to try for a flirtatious remark. Luckily, Nadine saves me just in time.

"Draco! Please come over here, I want you to meet a friend!" her sweet voice drifts over the crowd. She's waving a tanned arm – Nadine never cared much about following fashion – at me and pointing towards the black beauty I spotted earlier. I quickly make my excuses to Sherryl and weave my way over to Nadine and her friend.

After a couple of hours of chatting to people I like and running from the people I don't like, I get quite tired of the crowded room. Admittedly, I've had a little too much to drink too, but that has nothing to do with it. I make my way over to the balcony and look out over the city.

The large Christmas tree on Trafalgar Square is twinkling in the distance and the sky is so clear I can see millions of stars even though I'm in London. I breathe in deeply, missing the clean smell of the country air that hangs around Malfoy Manor, but at the same time relishing in the buzz that's the city's perfume.

"Quite pretty, isn't it?" Bianca, Nadines friend, quietly joins me on the balcony. I look at the way her deep green dress hugs her curves and her jet black hair falls around her face.

"Yes, it most definitely is," I tell her, keeping her guessing whether I mean her or the city. She smiles - a naughty? - yes it's really a naughty smile, at me. I feel a slight pull in my stomach at the twinkling light in her eyes.

"So, got tired of making nice with everyone?" Bianca's voice has a hoarse undertone, which makes it sound really sexy. I take a sideways look at her as she places her hands on the balustrade next to me.

"I get a bit tired of crowds after a while, yes. What about you, what brings you out here?" I return her question, pretending to be staring at the street below us were some lonely people are making their way here or there. In truth, I'm studying her hands. She has long, elegant fingers with flawlessly manicured nails. There's a gold ring on every other finger, starting with the pinkie of her left hand. One ring is a simple straight one and I wonder for a moment if she's with someone. In love, engaged, maybe even married.

"Why, you of course," that sultry, hoarse voice sends a tingle up my spine. Definitely interested then, whether she's with or without someone. I look up and meet intense, green eyes that are still twinkling. I smile my date-smile, lifting up the left corner of my mouth just a bit. She stares right back and my body moves almost of it's own accord, moving towards her and taking a deep bow. I have no choice but to ask her to dance to the slow waltz music that is filtering through the slightly opened balcony windows. To be honest, I don't really think I want a choice.

She offers me a brilliant smile of deep red lips, curtsies and gently places her hand in mine. I pull her into my arms and start turning her around slowly on the balcony. She locks eyes with me, refusing to look away, making it impossible for me to do so. Those green depths are so intense, so full of promises. Promises of intelligence and passion, of fun and understanding. They sparkle with a will to live that I have seldom seen before.

As the song ends, I become aware of the blood rushing through my veins, spurred on by the wild thumping of my heart. And I realise that this girl has something special, that she will not be just another one night stand. Could it be? But it has been so long since I have been with a woman.

I watch her eyelids flutter close as I put my hand under her chin and tilt her head up towards mine. My own eyes close as I kiss her lips lightly. Soft, so soft. Long fingers thread through my hair as she brings up her arms and embraces me. I deepen the kiss when she opens her mouth slightly against mine.

She's a good kisser, a really good kisser, but it doesn't prevent me from realizing something's missing. And when the kiss ends, I release her and take a small step back. When she looks at me her eyes are sharp and searching, then they turn soft again as she smiles at me. Only now do I realize she has a small dimple in her right cheek when she smiles. It's adorable and I can't help but smile back. It's an admiring smile, for her softness and her beauty.

"I have to go now Draco, but I hope to see you again," she whispers, accenting the hoarseness of her voice.

"Goodbye, Bianca," I answer softly as she turns and heads back inside. I listen to the soft tick-tick of her heels on the balcony floor as I stare out across the city. I certainly hope to see her again.

Some time later I head back inside and try to enjoy the party again, but I find I can't any longer, not even with the amount of martini's I've swallowed tonight. So I say goodnight, politely thank my hostess for the party, pretending not to see the sad look in her eyes at seeing me leaving before morning, and wait for my cab to take me home.

The street's almost empty now, but there are still some people mulling about. In a city like this, large streets are never truly empty. I look up as a newspaper drifting across the street makes a rustling sound that seems unnaturally loud at this time of night. The relative silence is momentarily disturbed by a group of teenage boys, probably making their way to one of the clubs nearby. I think about going there myself for about half a second before voting against the idea. No fun in going on my own.

Somewhere down the street, near a large apartment building pulled up out of white stone, a streetlamp dies. I frown as I remember how my father used to charm out all the lights in Malfoy Manor with his wand. He would march through all the corridors and check every room in the Mansion, his black cape billowing behind him like some sinister set of dark wings. My father, the worlds greatest bastard, the very reason I'm here in the first place.

I try to chat with the cabdriver on the way home to get my mind off that particular track of thought. I have half a mind to tell him to turn around and drive back to the party, but I wasn't having fun there anymore either. Talking with the cabdriver appears to be impossible anyway. He's Iranian or Turkish, maybe even Egyptian: he doesn't speak English at all. I can only hope he understands it well enough to get me home.

Luckily that appears to be the case, because the driver stops right in front of the doors to my apartment building. I ponder what to do as I walk up the stairs to my penthouse. Drink myself into a stupor or take a shower and go to bed? I decide on the latter. I have to train tomorrow – hey, getting on the cover of WAM doesn't come easy – and being grossly hung over won't help that. More importantly, I decide as I pull up my nose, I smell like smoke and booze.

I'm really looking forward to that shower now, so I hurry up the last steps of the landing and quickly open the front door of my penthouse. I'm greeted by a big green flash and then everything goes black.


	2. Auror Central

Disclaimer:

_Disclaimer: _

_Anything belonging to the HP universe belongs to J.K. Rowling and others who have bought the rights to meddle with her toys. Anything that's not is mine, unless stated otherwise. I'm just playing around here, not making money, so please don't sue. _

_Author's note's:_

_This fic was inspired by The Goodness of Their Hearts by Taratext (can be found on Fictionalley), but is very different all the same. The detective theme is still there, but different._

_Story isn't finished of beta'd, but I really like where it's going so it probably will be finished. Lots of original characters in this one. Bit of a Harry Potter/CSI mix. Please let me know what you think._

Summary:

Harry is a White Hunter, an Auror specialized in dealing with The Dark Arts. Draco Malfoy has fled the Wizarding World for a career as a super model in the Muggle World. When he's attacked Harry is put on the case, much to the chagrin of the both of them.

Chapter Summary:

Harry obviously could use some anger management: its name is Jenny, his Side Hunter. They set out to Draco's Penthouse to find out what exactly happened.

Auror Central

I hurry through the corridors of the Ministry like a maniac. They should've called me sooner: there's no telling what he's done by now. For all I know he shattered every glass object in the vicinity, _again_. Several heads turn in irritation as I storm through the Auror's office, blowing papers off desks and disrupting conversations. I really don't care, my only concern is that high oak door at the end of the next hallway. I can hear him as soon as I pass them.

"I am NOT going!" his voice booms through the hallway. My heart sinks as I see several broken pieces of pottery and a few cracked tea glasses scattered here and there. Caitlin gives me a look that speaks of pure pity as I walk past her, repairing some of the damage on my way. He's going to get our arses fired someday if he doesn't learn to control his temper.

I barge into Miss Black's office without knocking. She's leaning over her desk, her red face contrasting sharply with her hair. Harry's on the other side of the desk, his fists planted on the wood, like he just slammed them down there. He's right in her face and breathing heavily. Damn, they really should've gotten to me sooner.

"Harry Potter!" I yell as I walk up to him and slap him square across the face when he turns to look at me. I hit him so hard his head snaps the other way violently. While Harry touches his face in baffled surprise, Miss Black sits down and breathes out through rounded lips.

"Good morning Jenny, good of you to come so quickly on such short notice and this early too," she says pleasantly, then offers me some tea. Accepting my tea and sitting down next to Harry, who has settled himself in the large black chair across from Miss Black's desk, I nod.

"Good morning Miss Black. Apparently, I wasn't quick enough," I say with a slight smile. Miss Black laughs, a clear, cheerful sound, like the high notes on a piano.

"I'd say you were just in time, Jenny. And I've asked you so many times before, please, call me Tonks, everybody else does," Miss Black tells me.

I ignore her last remark. I have my own reasons for calling her what I call her, reasons nobody else needs to know.

"What's all the shouting about?" I ask, planting a hand on Harry's knee and pushing down, because I can feel him tense.

"I was called over here at four am because of an attack," Miss Black begins. I move my hand up Harry's leg a little and squeeze hard as I see him ball his hands into fists. I close my eyes briefly to chase off the images that come to me. Touching Harry this way obviously isn't a good idea. I open my eyes and try to concentrate on Miss Black's story.

"Aurors determined that black magic was involved almost immediately and handed the case over to us, so I called Harry," the women opposite me continues. Her hair is bright white today.

"I told you, I'm not going!" Harry snaps. I send him a warning glance, but it is no use. There is something burning intensely in his eyes. Small objects all around us start shacking.

"And I'm telling you, you are! Draco Malfoy asked for the best and the best is what he'll get," Miss Black answers, paying no attention to Harry's temper flaring. She is talking loud enough to cover my gasp. Draco Malfoy? _The_ Draco Malfoy, top-model and voted the UK's most eligible bachelor? Oh, we were só going!

"Tonks, you know how things are between us. I can't help him, he won't even want me to!" Harry is getting desperate now and he throws a look at me that begs me to help.

"I know how things were between you at school. Maybe it's time you both grew up? He asked for the best, Harry. He's also still my nephew. You're going and that's final," Miss Black's voice has grown icy and I know this is serious. She means business.

"Of course," I say: "We'll go at once." Harry looks at me, first like he sees water burn, but it changes into a look of betrayal and then of anger. The last two hurt, but I have no choice. I have to save our jobs and I really want to meet Draco Malfoy.

"You have no idea what you are getting yourself into," Harry speaks through clenched teeth, before barging through the door of Miss Black's office and heading for the exit in a maddening pace. I have no choice, but to hurry after him.

"Harry. Harry! HARRY!" I call after him as he storms through the hallway, repairing any damage that I didn't. He doesn't stop, he doesn't even slow down and the Aurors get their papers blown of their desks and their conversations disrupted for the second time this morning. I pay no attention to the annoyed looks that are being thrown my way. I'll worry about that later.

I don't reach Harry until he's in the elevator. I squeeze in just before the door slides shut. "Jeez, you could've at least waited for me," I tell him. He doesn't answer.

I turn and point my wand under his nose, getting up close and personal.

"Harry," the warning in my voice is clear. He's walking a thin line here. I'm royally pissed off at him now.

He just glares at me and my wand goes skidding over the elevator's floorboards. A reminder of just how powerful he is. But I don't back down, don't give an inch. He's powerful yes, but I know he won't hurt me and I need to get through to him. We can't start this case fighting with each other.

"Look Harry, I know how things were between you, I've heard the stories," I start. There's no anger in my voice now. He needs to know I'm not the enemy here. He sighs as all traces of anger leave his body.

"You've heard the stories yes, that means you don't know the half of it," he says. I take a step away from him, trying to put some distance between us. I still can't handle being this close to him. But he grabs hold of my arms and yanks me against him. His eyes are searing as they look into mine. Boring into my skull, trying to force his arguments into my mind.

"He's dangerous, Jenny," he tells me. The undertone in his voice is almost desperate. I try to pull free, but he won't let me go.

"Oh come on Harry, what's he going to do, try and kill me? You know he doesn't stand a chance against a trained Side Hunter," I snort. I still sound confident, but I really need him to let me go. Harry shakes his head.

"That's not what I'm worried about," he says, still staring into my eyes. "He'll hurt you," as if that explains everything. At this point it's Harry that's hurting me though, even if it's not physically.

"Harry, please let me go," I'm all but reduced to whispering now and to make things worse my eyes start burning. He lets go of me immediately and steps back. Maybe that hurts me even more.

"I'm sorry," he whispers as I blink a couple of times to get rid of the burning feeling in my eyes. I shake my head.

"It's okay, but why are you so afraid he's going to hurt me. Is he that powerful?" I ask. Harry's face turns sour.

"Hardly," he answers. I sigh, frustrated by his lack of answers.

"Then what? And no crypto's this time," I bark at him as we get out of the elevator. He walks towards the exit, so I follow, but I don't really get were he's going. The floo network's the other way.

"He'll make you fall for him. He'll use you and hurt you, just like he does with everybody else," Harry tells me as he picks up his coat. I scramble to get mine and follow him outside.

"Is that it? You're afraid I might fall for him? You're just jealous!" I yell at his back. I shouldn't have. He's in my face before I can blink. Powerful yes, and fast too: seeker reflexes and all that.

"I don't want to see you get hurt. I'm not jealous," he says softly and I know I'm in the danger zone. Making Harry yell because he's angry isn't that bad, but when he starts to speak softly, almost hisses at you, you're in a bad place. I hurry after him down the street, still not understanding where he's going. I grab his hand to make him face me as I catch up to him. He's frowning.

"Look, I won't fall for him okay. Don't worry," I tell Harry, but I can see he's not convinced. "Where are we going anyway?" I continue. Hopefully a change of subject will clear the air.

"We're taking the motorcycle," Harry says, then let's go of my hand to get the keys out of his pocket. I smile at him. Talk about good news! See, mister Potter here owns an amazing motorcycle. It's stunningly beautiful, gleaming red and the fastest thing on two wheels for miles around. And I love it when we take it. I follow Harry to the motor park that used to belong to the mall and open the locker I own there to get my gear.

Imagine the look on my face when my direct superior gave me a motorsuit and a locker combination on my first day. I think he laughed his head off while I went to put my things away. I smile at the memory of my first ride. It was such a thrill, not to mention the fact that I could cling to my crush all the way. I shut down that train of thought quickly though. I don't want to think about what came after that ride. Instead I put on my helmet and climb on the bike behind Harry. He opens the throttle and we're off.

We change into our businessgear in the elevator up to the penthouse. I notice Harry gets more agitated by the minute and wonder what exactly went down between him and Draco Malfoy. I don't get a chance to dwell on it though, because Harry signs me to be silent as soon as he's left the elevator. Something's wrong.

I quietly exit the elevator and almost jump as the doors slide closed behind my back. I'm on high alert, all my senses straining to pick up anything weird. At this point, it's my job to protect Harry, no matter what. We slowly make our way towards the penthouse entrance. The yellow plastic that says 'crime scene' is torn. I look at Harry and he nods, indicating he's spotted it. He takes out his wand and carefully collects the tape. It might be evidence. I'm greeted with the weirdest sight ever, when we make our way inside.

Part of what was once a beautiful room is now blackened and ruined. Burned furniture and carpet have left a nauseating smell. There's rubble strewn everywhere across the floor, half a chair hangs against the far wall and amidst all of this, on the only couch that's left intact, sits the most gorgeous man I have ever seen.

I stop and take a deep breath as Draco Malfoy – it must be him – stands and walks over to greet us. It's not because of his good looks, it's because of the tension I feel between him and Harry. It's so thick you could break a toe kicking against it and it's loaded with electricity. I realize that these two make an explosive mix. Tread carefully Jenny, I tell myself.

Draco Malfoy stops a few meters from us and inclines his head.

"Potter," he says in a forced polite tone. Then he turns to me. "And who's your pretty girlfriend over here?"

"That's Jenny and she's my partner, not my girlfriend. Why are you in here?" Harry reacts before I can even open my mouth. He's tensed beyond belief. I can see every muscle in his back is ready for action. He's like a cobra ready to strike and Draco Malfoy glides around him like a python to take my hand.

"Well good day lady and welcome to my home. I do apologize for the state it's in at the moment," he says after he kisses my hand. I blush in spite of myself. And I swear I can hear Harry grinding his teeth. I find secret delight in it for a moment, but remember where I am soon enough.

"Thank you mister Malfoy. Would you please explain to us why you are here?" I ask. I still can't quite believe I'm in the home of a male supermodel, but I'm not so impressed I don't notice he holds my hand just a little too long.

"Please, call me Draco. And this is my home, is it not?" he reminds us politely. His voice washes over me like summer rain and it actually takes me some time to realize what he has said. No wonder Harry reacts.

"It's also a crime scene and you're contaminating evidence," he bites at Draco, who lifts up an eyebrow at Harry's outburst.

"I'm sure I'm not contaminating anything and I don't see you collecting any evidence, now do I," Draco says haughtily. I have to hide a smile at his reaction, it's so out of place. He's standing there, some Adonis, between the blackened pieces of what once was his living room and he tries to order the best White Hunter to walk this planet around. To my surprise though, Harry doesn't react. All he does is ask Draco to tell him what happened.

Draco starts his story but stops again as he sees a notepad and a quill drift next to Harry.

"I need to write down your statement Malfoy. Research and all that," Harry explains it readily enough, but I see his secret smile. He delights in this, in surprising Draco, in getting the better of him. And I realize that whatever it is between those two goes beyond a school rivalry.

Once Draco has told his story I step in to ask the usual questions about enemies, problems and the like while Harry examines the room. It's hard for me to get Draco to focus though, he keeps watching Harry with a mistrusting eye. So the dislike definitely goes both ways.

"Jenn? I think I found the source of the blast," Harry tells me. I charm away the notebook and quill and walk up to him. He's right, the pattern of debris and coal tells us this is where the explosion originated from.

"Draco, please step back a little," I tell the assumed target of this explosion as I step back myself. Harry walks up to the spot that's most likely to be the source of the blast and carefully places his hands on the floor.

"What's he doing?" Draco asks from behind me. I don't turn around when I answer, I have to keep an eye on Harry.

"Harry can feel the dark spells magic. It's sort of like he communicates with it. Because his own defences, we call it white magic, are extremely powerful he doesn't get hurt by the dark spell, usually", I explain.

"Usually?" Draco wants to know.

"It can go wrong. That's why I have to watch him," I continue as Harry's hair stands on end and a white light starts to form around him. "See that white light? That's his white magic, fending of the dark, while he figures out what kind of dark spell was used."

I know it's a real sight seeing Harry Potter do this. I've seen it numerable times myself and I'm still impressed every time he does it. Seeing this well muscled, handsome man kneeling down on the ground, radiating power is awe-inspiring. You tend to forget everything else in the room and focus completely on Harry and what he's doing. It's like watching an action hero fighting the bad guys, only for real. I hear Draco mutter 'Wow" behind me and smile a little. Yep, it's gotten him too.

My smile falters when Harry's hair suddenly turns white though. The color starts at the roots of his hair and works its way up quickly. Within seconds, Harry's dark locks are gone. I take a step towards him involuntarily. This is not supposed to happen.

"What's going on?" Draco asks, a little freaked. I can't blame him, this scares even me.

"This dark magic is very strong, it's trying to claim him and he needs almost all he's got to fend it off," I explain, trying to keep the fear out of my voice. Suddenly, Harry's hair turns black again and there's a loud "bang" just before he gets thrown backwards and goes skidding across the floor. He comes to a halt against the far wall with a dull thud.


	3. The Crime Scene

Disclaimer:

_Disclaimer: _

_Anything belonging to the HP universe belongs to J.K. Rowling and others who have bought the rights to meddle with her toys. Anything that's not is mine, unless stated otherwise. I'm just playing around here, not making money, so please don't sue. _

_Author's note's:_

_This fic was inspired by The Goodness of Their Hearts by Taratext (can be found on Fictionalley), but is very different all the same. The detective theme is still there, but different._

_Story isn't finished or beta'd, but I really like where it's going so it probably will be finished. Lots of original characters in this one. Bit of a Harry Potter/CSI mix. Please let me know what you think._

Summary:

Harry is a White Hunter, an Auror specialized in dealing with The Dark Arts. Draco Malfoy has fled the Wizarding World for a career as a super model in the Muggle World. When he's attacked Harry is put on the case, much to the chagrin of the both of them.

Chapter Summary:

Harry and Jenny discover something strange at Draco's Penthouse. The investigation continues, albeit somewhat haltingly.

The Crime scene

I blink as the quickly moving ceiling is suddenly replaced by Jenny's spiky hair and worried face. I smile at her as I sit up, sufficing with an "Ouch" as I rub the back of my head were it hit the wall. She quickly checks for injuries as Malfoy walks up to us. I scramble to my feet, not wanting him to be near me when I'm down.

"What was that?" Jenny asks, while charming her notebook and quill back into action. I see Malfoy watching her and feel a frown furrowing my brow. He's definitely going to make a pass at her.

"I'm not exactly sure. Powerful dark magic, set to go off as soon as the door opened, not meant to kill, but there was something else, something important and when I got really close to it …," I trail off, staring at the blackened spot on the floor near the fireplace.

"Bang," Jenny helpfully finishes my sentence. I nod and continue making my way across the room, while Jenny scribbles down everything that just happened. I'm not happy about this, not happy at all. I'm still pissed at Tonks for forcing me to take this job, but I like it even less now that this has happened. Something is awfully wrong here, I sense it.

Malfoy has gone back to lounging on his one good couch and is practicing his 'I-am-so-bored-with-you' look. I see Jenny stealing glances at him. I hope it is just because she's young and he's a super-model, but the look in her eyes really gets me worried. She used to look at me that way.

"So, have you people figured out who did this yet?" Malfoy asks from his position on the couch. I see Jenny almost choke, trying not to laugh, but I don't think it's funny at all. I throw him an annoyed look.

"Don't be daft. It could be weeks before we get the culprit, maybe even months considering the unknown nature of this spell," I tell him none too kindly. He almost bristles.

"You mean I have to put up with you for that long?" Malfoys says in horror: "Had I known that, I never would've asked you to come."

"I wish you hadn't," I mumble, before turning around and sweeping the room a second time.

I think we covered anything glaringly obvious. And I sigh, because I know what comes next.

"Is there some place were we can sit down and talk?" I ask Malfoy. One of his blond eyebrows shoots up in that annoying 'I'm-way-to-good-to-answer-that' look as he tears his gaze away from Jenny, who is still furiously scribbling, and looks at me.

"About what, Potter", he asks. The tone in his voice makes it obvious he thinks there's nothing to talk about. Too bad.

"About what happened, who could've done this and why," I tell him, not really caring that I sound really annoyed. Jenny sends me a warning glance, though. Malfoy rolls his eyes and I have to restrain myself not to snap at him.

"Really Potter, even I didn't think you were thát slow. I just told your pretty colleague here all about that." I see a slight blush creep into Jenny's cheek at his complement and actually feel my nostrils flare.

"Yes, and now you have to tell it all again, to me," I say, not without delight in annoying the hell out of Malfoy. He wants to know who tried to hurt him and that means he has to cooperate. I offer him a phony sweet smile and he bares his teeth at me.

"Fine," he snarls: "The kitchen will do". And he gets up from his couch and walks out of the room. I follow, leaving Jenny to her scribbling. She'll be busy for a while, making dozens of notes I'll be eternally grateful for later on. I steel myself for a one-on-one with Malfoy before I enter his kitchen.

And stop dead in my tracks in the doorway. This is positively the largest and most beautiful kitchen I've ever seen. I'm almost afraid to put my heavy motorboots on the shining black tiles. The walls are painted a soft type of white that goes towards ivory, but never touches it. In the middle of the room is a cooking isle, the titanium rack of utensils hanging above it like an aureool. A smale table is perched against the far wall, next to the large glass doors, leading onto the roof terras. I stop myself before I trail a hand along the black marble countertop of the bar Malfoy has seated himself at.

He's staring outside, seemingly so lost in thought he doesn't hear me come in and I'm caught off guard by the expression on his face. From my position it looks more or less blank and in no way near the nasty expressions I'm accustomed to look into. It's a weird experience and for a moment, I falter. Then I resolutely sit down next to him and watch as the irritated expression snaps into position again.

I charm out my notepad and quill again and sigh. I really don't want to do this...

"Why do you always do that?" Draco asks. He keeps staring out the window so I can only see his profile. It's hard to discern his facial expression this way, but his voice sounds impatient, almost angry.

"What?" I want to know. I really have no idea what he means: sighing, getting out my notepad and quill, sitting down?

"Doing things you don't really want to do," he explains, even more impatient and I fall silent, taken aback by that statement. By his appearent knowledge of my thoughts.

"In this particular instance? Because I need to do this to find out who's after you." I answer and I know I don't sound too friendly myself. I wonder about that for a moment. It's a relatively harmless question, but even those he has to ask in agressive tones. And it's a non-revealing answer, but I'm on the defensive anyway.

"You do it, because it is the right thing to do," he says, ignoring my answer. Fine, if he thinks he knows all the answers already, why is he even asking the question?

"Tell me exactly what happened last night," I command, ignoring Malfoys last remark. He frowns in irritation, but whether it is at my commanding tone or because of my ignoring his remark I don't know. After a couple of minutes of silence he starts his story.

"As I told Jenny before, I came home from the corporation Christmas Party and -," he begins in a resigned tone while turning around to face me. I interrupt.

"Before that. Go back further. Who was at that party? Did anything out of the ordinary happen over there? Who knew that you were at that party? Did you meet any new people?" I fire the questions in rappid succession, trying to get him off balance. If his story is fabricated, he's likely to get confused.

"Everybody working at the corporation, assorted partners and dates, the odd contact. No. Obviously the people who saw me there, my mother, my downstairs neighbour, the doorman, Micheal, Pansy and Blaise. Yes." He answers them just as quickly. I make a mental note to get a list of all Goodmann Model's employees and arrange a meeting with miss or misses Goodmann herself.

"Who saw you there?" I ask, working my way down the list.

"I kind of stand out in the crowd, so I'd say everybody who was there". I nodd, unsurprised by the arrogance in that statement. A guestlist would be nice.

"Who's your downstairs neighbour?"

"Misses Trenody. Nice little old lady, brings me soup sometimes." It disturbes me slightly that some nice old lady is bringing Malfoy soup, but I ignore that. Bussiness first, annoyance later.

"Doorman?"

"Percy."

"Do you get along?"

"No. He has no manners and is arrogant." Kind of like yourself then, I think, but again, ignore it.

"Does he hate you?"

"Probably."

"Enough to try to hurt you?"

"He wouldn't stand a change." Boasting doesn't help me find the truth, so I shoot again.

"Does he dislike you enough to hurt you?"

"Yes, but so do you." I grit my teeth and see the flash of satisfaction cross his eyes. I don't take the bate. Make a chat with the doorman too.

"Who's Micheal?" He sighs.

"Ex-boyfriend." I lift an eyebrow in surprise at that. Malfoy has boyfriends? Fact to note, but not to coment on now.

"Ugly break-up?" The anger in his eyes makes the blue come out more.

"None of your business."

"If it was bad enough to blast your appartment to pieces over, it is." I counter. Another sigh, more angry this time.

"It's a penthouse, not an appartment. Not clean, not ugly either. He wouldn't hurt me."

"How can you be so sure?" He's the one to grit his teeth this time, but he knows he has to answer if he wants me to do my job.

"Because he broke up with me." Ouch. That explains the anger. I move on to Pansy and Blaise, but he's still friends with them. This new person he met, this Bianca, intrigues me though. Let's see if I can arrange an interview through, what's her name? I quickly glance at my notes. Nadine, right. Next, enemies.

"Do you have any enemies?" He actually bursts out laughing at that. I'm too startled by the clear, warm sound to be annoyed by that. I've never heard him laugh before.

"In this business? Try how many. I'd say about a dozen within the corporation, twice as much within other model agencies and loads I don't know about." I scowl, that's not helpfull. Then again, this was probably done by someone close to him. I proceed to ask him all about his house, any wards, who can get in etc. I watch him get more bored and more irritated with each question and I fervently hope he's wishing he'd never asked for 'the best'.

After an hour of drilling Malfoy, my throat is as dry as the inside of a watertight watch, but I'm fairly satisfied I got all I could out of him today. Jenny's just apeared in the kitchen and nodds at me.

"We're done Malfoy. But you're penthouse" He sneers at the overexaggerated emphasis I put on the word: "Is still a crime scene and thus off limits. You can take some things out of any room but the living room. We expect you to be gone in an hour." He glares, a full-out glare like the ones I used to get at Hogwarts and somewhere inside me something re-ignites. Like someone threw dry wood on a fire that has been smouldering for sometime. And as he stomps off, ranting about the injustice of it all, I decide this would be a good time to leave.


End file.
